Chasing A Memory
by blackwolf412
Summary: A Constantine oneshot. For those of you who actually know who Con is.


to all of you who just love con. . .

you're gonna hate me even more for not putting cark in the story.

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><p>Memories.<p>

For ten years, that was all he'd had. Remembered glimpses of a little girl with blond hair and spotted wings. Brown eyes. Hands as big as his. The cutest laugh.

Over time, he had just built up this image of her, this. . .ideal expectation. He took the girl from his memories and basically just aged her. Made educated guesses as to what she'd look like now, what she'd be like now. She would've outgrown that childish innocence and become an adventurous, beautiful girl. She'd be smart, she'd be funny, she'd be strong.

She'd be his.

When he had first learned that she was alive, that she was so close, he almost couldn't take it. Sure, Blaze and the kids had freaked out, too, but. . .it was just too hard to describe what he'd felt. That girl from his memories, that. . .that perfect girl was back. She could _come_ back. Yeah, she'd grown up without them, but that was fine. Just so long as she came back. They'd be a family again. He'd be happy again.

Then he'd met her.

Right away he knew, as soon as she looked at him, that she had no idea who he was. And that. . .that just killed him. It'd hurt for about a millisecond, but then he just got pissed. How the _hell_ did she not remember who he was? How the _fuck_ did she forget about him? It. . .he just couldn't understand it! He remembered _her,_ they all remembered her, but she didn't remember them! And. . .and. . .and he couldn't figure out _why!_

For the next month or so, he just. . .it _sucked._ All these emotions that he had never felt so intensely before were all whirling around inside him, not letting him think straight, not letting him sleep. Anger that she couldn't remember them. Fury that she denied any wrong on her part. Confusion as to why she didn't want them. Frustration that she wasn't how she was supposed to be. That she wasn't who he'd expected her to be.

He had never wanted to kill anybody so much before in his life. Truth be told, he had never _really_ wanted to kill anybody at all in the first place. But. . .that stupid fucking girl just got under his skin and in his head in way that he just couldn't fucking stand. He'd hated her. He just could not stop thinking about how she wasn't who she was supposed to be, and how she wasn't who he wanted, and how she just so, so different.

He'd wanted her dead. And the worst part was that she just didn't seem to be able to die. He would shoot at her, he would torture her mind, he would hit her, he would chain her to three times her body weight and _push off a freaking boat into the sea_ but she _just. Wouldn't. Die._

And then, of course, came the _Princess Andromeda._ He'd. . .oh, God. He'd _finally_ managed to kill her, okay, back in that cave, but then no, somehow she's still alive and _in the same room as him._ He never thought he'd be able to control his hatred for her, but. . .no. Somehow logic made it through and forced him to accept that until they were off the boat, all former actions and past wrongs would have to be forgotten. They'd have to cooperate with each other long enough to escape.

That was when things started to change.

Sure, he still hated her, and sure, she still didn't remember him the way he remembered her, but slowly he started seeing her as more than just a frustration. No, she wasn't who she was supposed to be, but the person she was now was. . .all right, in her own way. Every now and then he'd spot a childhood habit, or something that struck true to his ideal expectation, but for the most part she was still too different.

And somehow that stopped being such a bad thing.

It almost started to be a good thing, actually. He tried forgetting about his thought-up version of her, but somehow, no matter what she did, no matter what she said, no matter what he told himself to convince his heart otherwise, he couldn't do it. He'd started liking the new her, but. . .he just could not let go of that memory, of that perfect vision he'd held on to his entire life. Why? Hell if he knew. Maybe because that built-up ideal had gotten him through too much to just be thrown away like the memory of yesterday's breakfast. Maybe because he was afraid that she wouldn't feel the same way. Maybe because he just didn't want to know what would happen if he tried to love her for who she was now.

Because maybe. . .maybe he _didn't_ love her that way.

As terrifying and embarrassing as it was to think that he did love her, it was even worse to think that he didn't. But he _had_ to, didn't he? Why else would he be running around chasing after her? Shit, he went halfway across the world just because she asked him to! You didn't do that just because! Besides, he'd felt something when he'd kissed her those times! And that made sense, didn't it, because that meant that he really did like her that way. And that explained everything. Why he'd tracked her so obsessively. Why he'd been such a dumbass throughout the whole stupid thing. Why he couldn't stop thinking about how she wasn't like what he'd expected.

Then again, if he really did love her, then he'd be able to accept that she was different. And no matter how hard he tried, he could never fully do that.

Sy could, though.

God. _Sy._ He was just a perfect little wonder-boy, wasn't he? He was anything a girl could ask for; no wonder she liked him. And it wasn't like she tried to flaunt it, but for some reason he always saw all those little things she only did for him. Pokes to the side. Messing up his hair. Brief moments of hand-holding. It had irritated him a lot until he'd realized something. And after a long plane-ride of secretly watching them from the back of the aircraft, he'd found that while all those little things made him want to gag and roll his eyes, it didn't really bother him _that_ way. Yeah, it was annoying, but. . .he wasn't jealous. Not like Sy would be if _he'd_ been doing those things with her.

In a way, he. . .he didn't really care enough to be bothered by it anymore. What he'd said on the beach in Norway was true-he'd left so she wouldn't hurt him again. So she wouldn't _keep_ hurting him by not being that ideal expectation. He didn't hate her so much anymore, but at that time he'd felt that he couldn't be around her. She could live, and that was fine, just so long as it was somewhere far away from him.

And for all twelve of those hours before she'd called, he'd felt. . .free. Free of her, free of all that confusing emotion that had raged within him for so long. For the first time, he hadn't thought about her. It'd left him feeling odd, almost hollow. Because what was he supposed to do now?

Get dragged back into it, apparently. What a pain in the ass.

Did he regret it, though? . . .No. No, not really. Because even when he'd been free of her, he hadn't had a plan. No idea of what to do, where to go. At least with her, there was something to do. Tour Australia, and then the house thing. It used to be a challenge to be around her and ignore himself, his confused thoughts and emotions, but suddenly he didn't have that anymore. He'd left it all back on that beach. Best thing that had ever happened to him, that place. So now. . .it was almost easy. And that was almost too weird to think about. That it could ever be _easy._ Around _her._

Yes, he still felt the occasional pain of her difference, but it was getting better with time. Eventually, he'd be able to accept her entirely. Maybe.

All right. It'd be stupid to say he didn't have _any_ feelings for her. Now, they may not have been powerful, uncontrollable feelings of everlasting love, but they were feelings nonetheless. An echo of confused, frustrated heartbreak would always remain as a tight, knotted little ball at the bottom of his heart, always connecting him to her, always reminding him that she could never not be in his life. Because. . .as _annoying_ and as _frustrating_ and as funny and stupid and weird as she was. . .in the end he couldn't be without her.

Because without her, even this non-ideal her. . .he would just go back to chasing a memory.

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><p>just a little oneshot for all those con-lovers out there. *sigh* he's such a troubled boy. . .<p>

but you know, considering how the _when_ stories went, it was not to be. perhaps in the alternate universe of when spark never left they'd be together, but alas, i am far too lazy.

fun fact: i didn't use con's or spark's name throughout this whole thing. go on, check. i really didn't.


End file.
